


Dark Creatures

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe they're not dark because it's inside them. Maybe they're dark because they haven't ever seen the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Creatures

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2013 and is now being crossposted here along with the rest of my work.

They were supposed to be dark creatures, their hearts empty and black, soulless, beings of Satan.

Every story he had ever heard and what he had seen that night in the bay had pointed to a dark, twisted history of monsters from the deep. Godless beings, abandoned by their Creator or possibly created by a lesser, darker one.

But then he met her, and his entire world spun sideways.

It amazed him how unused she was to kindness. She called her fellow creatures her sisters, and yet when he did something as simple as smile at her she seemed amazed.

Her beauty was astounding. She seemed delicate and feral, all at once, her dark and glittering yet… soft. Her lips were plump cupid's bows, her skin flawless. Even when in human form there was a light sheen to it, a glitter when it caught the light, as if her scales and skin were one. He'd done his best not to look when he'd picked her up, especially when he saw how the uncouth pirates--Sparrow and Blackbeard excepted--ogled her, but it was almost impossible not to. She was flawless. He'd even go so far as to call her perfect.

Surely God had created her. Nothing else could have resulted in such a heavenly visage.

And she responded to his kindness with such warmth and tenderness, quickly learning how to give consideration in return. In the end she'd come to care for him just as he did her. She'd cried over him, despite knowing the risk, and she had saved his life. He found that he needed her, more than anything, more than he even needed his faith. In fact, he found that she strengthened his faith.

It took some searching, but he found a small town in need of a preacher. He took the position and managed to build a house right by the ocean. It wasn't much, but Syrena spent most of her time in the water anyway. She still wasn't used to people, but she was learning quickly. He was immeasurably proud of her.

He still wasn't sure what he had done to earn that adoring look in her eyes, the face she made whenever he returned from town. Her eyes would go round and her lips would part, and she'd always, without fail, run to greet him.

Except that this time she didn't.

"Syrena?" He called. The hearth was smoking but the fire was out. Perhaps she was still in the water?

He walked down the beach, but saw no immediate sign of her. "Syrena!" He called again, growing concerned. The town knew he had a wife, but he'd told them that she was sick to avoid any questions or prying. He'd properly introduce Syrena later, when she had adjusted better.

But what if someone had come down and seen her? What if they, in their fear and ignorance, had hurt her? Mermaids were known far and wide for their deadliness. They wouldn't have known that Syrena was different, that she had turned from the dark to the light--or that, perhaps, she hadn't been dark to begin with. After all, she had pushed him out of the way of those falling stones, saving him before she even knew him.

"Syrena!" He called again, growing fearful. Why wasn't she responding? What if she couldn't? How could he find her?

"Phillip." The voice was soft and pained. He followed it, his feet kicking up sand, until he reached her.

She was behind some rocks, mostly in the water, tears glittering like pearls on her cheeks. Her tail swished up and down with the light current. He crouched down and saw that her hands were terribly red. When he touched them, she hissed, her face transforming into the black-eyed, fanged demon he'd seen when her sisters attacked Blackbeard's crew.

"It's all right," he soothed, refusing to let the horrendous visage scare him. "You burned yourself, that's all. The skin will heal."

Syrena's face relaxed back into the beautiful, human one. "The water heals me, but it takes time." Her eyes were warm and wet. "I was trying to make dinner."

He couldn't help but smile, stroking her cheek. Creatures of evil did not go out of their way to do things for others, to be thoughtful or loving. "Be more careful next time."

Syrena nodded against his hand.

"How much longer will it take to heal?" He asked.

"I do not know," she replied. "I will come in when I am finished."

He nodded. "If you need anything…"

She smiled at him. "I will call."

It wasn't until he was in bed that she came in, naked and dripping, her skin shining in the dying firelight. She crawled in with him, her skin sliding against his own as she peered down at him to see if he was awake.

"All better?" He asked.

She nodded, slipping a leg over to straddle him, her dark hair a striking contrast to her pale, shimmering skin. Despite the water that clung to her she was warm against him, and he could feel the heat radiating from between her thighs. She kissed him, as slow and deep as the first time, pouring her entire body into the action.

He opened his mouth to ask, but she answered him. "Thank you," she whispered, her lips moving down the column of his throat. He could feel his body waking up, responding to her attentions. She never failed to make his head spin.

"What for?" He asked, confused.

"For being patient. For being kind. For being there." Syrena whispered each word into his skin, her lips and teeth scraping gently, making his pulse race.

What creature of the dark showed gratitude?

She moved her hips, the friction pleasurable but not enough. "Syre–"

He was cut off as she lifted herself up and slid onto him, enveloping him so quickly in tight, hot velvet that his head fell back against the bed with an undignified thump.

Syrena moved languidly but with purpose, each rotation of her hips bringing him deeper into her, until he was bottomed out and all he could do was slide his hands up her legs, aching to touch all that he could. The remaining flames sent light dancing and licking over her skin, reminding him of her scales when they caught the afternoon sun. She was engulfed in light, from both her own self and the fire, glowing, even, and he knew that this was what angels looked like.

He reached a point where he couldn't hold back any longer and began to thrust up into her, trying to keep the steady pace she maintained but struggling. Syrena seemed to notice, obligingly picking up her pace, giving him the release that he craved. He shouted her name, something he would have felt ashamed about before he met her but he couldn't. He couldn't be ashamed of loving and being loved by her.

As she slid out of him he pulled her against his chest, spooning her, cradling her to him. She was such a beautiful, kind, thankful creature, one that had taught him about love and compassion. She wrapped her arms around him, nesting her head on his shoulder. She had responded so well to his soft words and gestures, reciprocating double whatever he had given her.

Adam and Eve themselves made mistakes. Man often turned from God. Did that make man a dark creature? He certainly hadn't been taught so. Perhaps the woman in his arms was not dark out of nature. Perhaps she was dark because she hadn't known what light was, what goodness and love were, or that the concepts even existed.

She was of the light now, though. She wasn't a dark creature at all.


End file.
